9. Chapter Nine Jade
Chapter Nine: Jade
T he scent of sweat and sin still clung to the air as Dante’s firm hands swept over my skin, wiping away the evidence of our reckless abandon. His touch was a contradiction—tender in the way he handled me, yet every stroke whispered of ownership. The frenzy that had driven us faded to a quiet hum of satisfaction. I didn’t speak; words felt superfluous now.
He did. He said I was good, he praised me for behaving, he said that I was the most beautiful woman ever.
He said it so much, I was almost starting to believe him.
Exhausted and entwined, we surrendered to sleep, our limbs a tangled mess amidst sheets that felt like clouds but cost more than most people’s rent.
I came to with the first light of dawn sneaking past heavy curtains, my body still flush against Dante’s. For a breath, I let myself sink into the pillow’s embrace, into the illusion of peace beside the man who was both my prison and my solace. But as the fog of sleep cleared, the truth sharpened into focus. This room, no matter how lavish, was my velvet-lined cell, and Dante, for all the pleasure he could give, was the keeper of my chains.
I slid from the bed, careful not to rouse him. Watching him there, peaceful in slumber, it was easy to forget who he was—a Moretti, a name synonymous with power and danger. And yet, I couldn’t deny the way my heart raced at his nearness or the warmth that pooled inside me at the mere thought of his touch.
Fuck, he really was Pavloving me into this. I did not like it.
Or…did I?
No time to think about it.
“Jade,” his voice interrupted me, though his eyes remained closed. I stilled, holding my breath, waiting. But when no further words came, only the steady rhythm of his breathing, I exhaled and continued my silent escape to the sanctuary of the adjoining bathroom.
The water was scalding, the way I needed it to be. It cascaded over me, stripping away the remnants of last night’s transgressions. There in the shower, I tried to wash away the complexity of my emotions—guilt, desire, a dangerous hope that fluttered in my chest despite everything.
The clothes Dante provided were laid out for me: a blouse and slacks that clung to every curve, a silent reminder that nothing here was truly mine. I dressed swiftly, the fabric unfamiliar against my skin. The lacy bra and panties were a soft whisper of opulence that contrasted sharply with my own simple tastes. Yet, they fit perfectly, as though Dante had committed every inch of me to memory.
I padded out of his bedroom toward my makeshift office. I found myself before a desk piled with the tools of my trade. Vials, pipettes, notes scribbled in my messy hand—a makeshift office in Dante’s world. Here, I could almost forget the life I’d been plucked from. My fingers itched to pour over the data, to lose myself in the familiar dance of genetic codes and enzymes.
With a deep breath, I sat down, allowing the excitement of discovery to buoy my spirits. The work was a balm, a slice of normalcy in the chaos that had become my existence. I delved into the complexities of genomes, my mind alight with the potential of what lay within these walls of numbers and sequences.
For a moment, just a fleeting moment, the bars of my gilded cage dissolved, and I was simply Dr. Jade Bentley, lost in the thrill of science, the promise of changing the world one discovery at a time.
A long time must have passed in the silent sanctuary of research and numbers, but I scarcely noticed. The only sound was the soft click of my keyboard, a rhythmic cadence that marked the passage of time. It wasn’t until the scent of rich, dark coffee infiltrated the sterile air of concentration that I realized the morning was slipping by unnoticed.
I tensed, sensing more than seeing Dante’s looming figure behind me. A glance at the clock told me that I had been oblivious to everything but my work for an entire morning.
“Thought you might need this,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he set down the steaming mug beside a plain bagel on a small plate.
“Thanks,” I muttered, though gratitude wasn’t what pulsed through me. Irritation pricked at my skin, a nagging itch that I couldn’t scratch away.
He nodded, then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“Hanging out,” he said as he took a sip of his own mug. “This is my house.”
“But I’m working…”
He nodded. “Right. You’re working in my house.”
I clenched my teeth. “Do you always have to watch over me like I’m some sort of lab rat?”
Dante’s response was a slow curl of his lips, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Those eyes, dark and fathomless, watched me not with the cold calculation of a predator, but with the heated intensity of a man possessed by something he probably also didn’t fully understand.
Which made this way more fucking dangerous.
Which made him way more fucking dangerous.
Fuck.
“Jade,” he began, still leaning against the wall, “it’s not about surveillance. It’s about admiration. You’re exceptional in ways you don’t even realize. Your dedication...it’s captivating.”
His words should have soothed, flattered even, but they coiled around me like chains. I saw the truth that lingered beneath the surface—the unyielding grip he sought to keep on every aspect of my life.
“Admiration is one thing,” I shot back, swiveling in my chair to face him fully. “But this—this is control. You want to keep me here, under your watch, all the time.”
Dante pushed off from the wall, taking a step closer, a shadow falling across his face. “Everything I do is to protect you,” he insisted, but the claim felt hollow, even to my ears. “You’re too important, Jade. To me, to the world.”
“Then trust me to handle my own life,” I said, standing my ground. “Your protection feels a lot like imprisonment.”
For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy and fraught with unspoken truths. Dante’s gaze never wavered, and I wondered if he understood just how much his world suffocated me, despite the allure of his dark charm.
Finally, he nodded, a reluctant concession, and retreated to a corner of the room, a self-imposed exile. “I get it,” he said. “I don’t want to make you feel like that.”
And then he crossed his arms over his chest and continued watching me.
“You haven’t changed anything.”
“Well, if the choice is to make you feel like that and keep alive or make you feel good and have you die, then the choice is very obvious.”
I was really losing my patience. I understood his need, his desire, to want to protect me. But I also didn’t think–no, I knew–that this wasn’t the way. That there had to be another way.
“What if we went to the police?”
He cocked his head…and he laughed. As if I was joking.
“Dante, what the fuck?” I asked, angry enough to want to slap him. “Is this about sex? Is that it, Dante? You can’t get enough? So you brought me here so you can always have sex with me, whenever you want?”
He met my accusation with a raw intensity that sent a shiver through the air. “To an extent,” he confessed, the words tumbling out like rough-cut jewels. “I’m obsessed with you. With making you come, with the way you taste…” He paused, his jaw tightening as if the admission cost him something. “But it’s also about our child.”
The mention of the baby shifted something within me, a visceral tug that made my defenses waver for just a moment. It was the one truth we couldn’t escape, a connection that bound us irreversibly.
“Because I’m pregnant, you think all this is justified?”
“Because you’re in danger, I think this all justified,” he replied, his voice quiet, controlled.
“Enough!” My voice sliced through the tension like a scalpel on skin, sharp and precise. At some point, he had approached me. Now, Dante’s towering form loomed over me, but I refused to shrink back. “I need space, Dante. Respect my boundaries.”
The battle raging in his gaze was almost tangible. His jaw clenched as if he were grinding down the very instincts that made him who he was—a Moretti, born into a legacy of taking without asking. But as his eyes searched mine, there was something else there too—care, maybe even fear of losing what we had stumbled into.
“Jade,” he started, his voice gravelly with conflict, “I...”
“Stop.” I held up my hand, palm out. “Actions, Dante. Not words.”
We stood there, locked in a silent confrontation. The air between us crackled, charged with everything left unsaid. With a frustrated sigh, Dante backed away, his steps heavy against the tile floor of the room. He sank into an armchair, the leather creaking under his weight, his dark eyes never leaving me.
I turned my attention back to the files scattered across the desk in front of me. My hands moved, steady and sure, betraying none of the inner chaos his proximity caused. Research papers and lab notes consumed my focus, a welcome reprieve from the emotional storm.
Across the room, Dante watched me, a new distance in his posture I hadn’t seen before. But he didn’t stop watching me.
“I’ll respect your boundaries when you’re no longer in danger, got it?” Dante finally said, suddenly annoyed.
“Fine,” I replied curtly, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. “But that doesn’t change anything between us.”
“Doesn’t it?” His voice was soft now, almost pained. He stood up and approached me. He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “Tell me, Jade. Have I ever failed to make you come? Am I not the best lover you’ve ever had?”
I closed my eyes, inhaling sharply. There was no denying the raw pleasure Dante had introduced me to, a world of sensation and release I hadn’t known existed. But this was more than carnal truth; this was about survival, about right and wrong.
“Yes, Dante, you are,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, as honesty won over pride. “You’re the best, but that’s not enough. This—us—it’s untenable.”
He straightened, his eyes darkening—a storm brewing in their depths. “Untenable?” he echoed, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Look at our lives, Dante. Your... family, my career. We’re worlds apart, and you know it. It’s like mixing oil and water. Sooner or later, everything will separate again.”
looked suspiciously like hurt. He stepped back, putting distance between us once more.
“Then we enjoy the emulsion while it lasts,” Dante said, wrinkling his nose. “See? I know science words too.”
I laughed, despite myself. The sound bounced around the quiet room, slicing through the tension between us. Dante’s smile was crooked, almost playful, but his eyes remained serious as they held my gaze.
“Is it really that simple to you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest protectively. “Enjoy the ride until we crash?”
“I’m trying to keep us from the crash, Jade,” he replied, moving closer again. His hand rose, hovering for a moment before he placed it gently on my arm. “I’m spinning some plates, whatever. I can drop some. You? Our baby? If I drop you…if you die because of me…”
His voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy in the air, a weighty shadow I couldn’t ignore. He shifted his grip on my arm, just once, before pulling his hand back as if my skin were fire.
Dante’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with that internal storm. “I can’t lose you or our child, Jade. I won’t.”
I flinched at his words. It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned our unborn baby—our accident—as a reason to be tied together. But it was the first time he’d sounded so... desperate. So afraid.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to meet his gaze with a level one of my own. Okay, so he was afraid. I was afraid too. But I hadn’t kidnapped him.
So maybe I could still talk him out of this.
But before I could say anything, he spoke.
“You have to stay here, Jade,” he said, finally. “Don’t you get it? I can’t risk it. We can’t risk it. Not if we want the baby to live.”